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02 December 2011 @ 12:36 am
New Zaylor one-shot!  
Randomly started writing this on the plane last weekend. Decided to clean it up and finish it, so here you go. First Zaylor I've written since starting my fiction writing class (which is almost over omg! D:), so we'll see how it goes.

The Door (yes, nearly all of my stories start with The...)
Pairing: Duh Zaylor
Rating: Uhh...R I guess for language?
POV: 3rd person limited
Summary: The barrier is broken and an eye appears, a sliver of the person he is most terrified to face and one he cannot exist without.

The door is closed. Nothing about it is different since the last time the young man saw it. Heavy wood. Brass knob. Remnants of tape that used to hold a keep out sign, tacked up in warning to younger siblings bent on messing with the big kids’ stuff. It has been replaced with the wood grain and the modesty and maturity of adulthood.
 
He traces the patterns in the wood. It is cool beneath his fingertip. Remarkable, the twist and turns in the grain, how has he never noticed them before? He stands, waiting, eyes tired. The skin beneath them droops and the tiny red veins surround his iris like spider webs, harshly contrasting with the blue.
 
Minutes tick by in silence. The hallway is empty. It swallows him in its void.
 
Finally, the young man pushes his shoulders back and his spine straightens. He smoothes untamed locks of blond hair, brushes the wrinkles from his t-shirt, and closes his eyes. A long breath is slowly released from his lungs. The hand becomes a fist and knocks.
 
The door is still closed, a barrier separating him from opportunity. The young man’s breath is slow and steady, but his chest feels tight.
 
There is movement behind the wood; footsteps on the ground behind the door are moving closer, getting louder. They are slow and timid, but their rhythm is familiar to him. The barrier is broken and an eye appears, a sliver of the person he is most terrified to face and one he cannot exist without.
 
Tears have been shed. The slice of cheek is wet, the deep brown of the eye surrounded by a red rim.
 
The young man knows he must speak. He must quickly beg entry before the door closes and the barrier is put back into place, but the words catch in his throat.
 
“What?”
 
His brother’s voice is not angry. It is not sad or full of sorrow. Not like the young man, who has been since the pregnancy was brought to light and every thing he had ever desired for his future was re-written.
 
The young man weeps. The tears flow out of him. It is a torrential downpour he cannot stop.
 
“Fuck this.” The voice sounds defeated.
 
 
The door is closing, but he cannot allow it. It has been almost a month of injured looks and deafening silences and he cannot survive another.
 
“Let me in.”
 
The brown eye widens, yet the crack of the door does not.
 
Both of the young man’s hands are on the door now, his eyes wet, blue, and begging.
 
“Please, Zac.”
 
“Fuck you.” The voice is no longer down-trodden, but full of venom. Each word is hissed, rather than spoken.
 
“I’m sorry.” The words come easily, slipping from the young man’s tongue, lips, and teeth to fill the air between them.
 
“Sorry…you’re sorry? You think that’s good enough? You think that’s going to fix this?”
 
The voice is cracking, each word becoming more and more fragmented.
 
“Nothing’s changed. I still feel the same way I did a month ago. I still want the same thing, Zac. I still want you.” The young man’s voice is in worse shape, each word strangled and stumbled over. He squeezes his eyes shut and prays for strength. His hand streaks down the wood.
 
“Stop lying, Taylor. Unless you’re really so delusional that you actually believe the crap you’re spewing right now.”
 
“I’m not lying. I want us.” The tears feel scalding, burning rivulets down the young man’s face. It is a face too smooth with youth to be a father’s.
 
“Get the fuck out of here. You shouldn’t be here.” The cracks in the voice have splintered. It shakes.
 
“Just let me in.”
 
“No.”
 
“Zac…”
 
“No Taylor. It’s too late. Sorry’s not gonna cut it.”
 
“I need you.”
 
The brown eye closes. A wounded sigh complicates everything as the door starts to open. It reveals more of the boy behind it, every inch causing the young man’s heart to race a little faster.
 
There he is, standing in the remnants of their old life, a life snuffed out too soon, or not soon enough. That handsome face looks so much younger than the young man’s, even younger than it usually does, and it is breaking.
 
The door closes, but the young man is inside now, it was his hand that has pushed and sealed it.
 
He has already crossed the brief gap between them, but pauses. He wants to touch the face, wipe the tears, and erase the pain he has inflicted from those brown eyes, his favorite pair. The young man stands there, hands at his sides.
 
“I don’t know why you’re here.” The voice sounds tired now, beyond its years.
 
There is so much the young man needs to say. He has rehearsed for almost a month the explanations that must be given and the pleading that must be done. He stands here now, in front of his brother, unable to say a thing. Blue eyes stare, hauntingly.
 
The seconds stretch into silence.
 
Before he can think and before his brother can protest, the young man steps forward and arms ensnare. He pulls the body that has fit best his whole life close, while his heart threatens to burst in his chest. Before he can reason, lips press into lips.
 
Hearts beat, pulses thudding together in time. Hands find hair, cheeks, jaw, deepening the kiss. But then it is over before it could really begin. The boy pulls away and starts retreating.
 
“Don’t.” Arms cross over each other to hug.
 
“Zac…”
 
“No. Don’t. Don’t fucking do this to me, not now.”
 
“She means nothing.”
 
“She’s going to be your wife, Taylor. And how ‘bout your kid, huh? Does the baby in her stomach mean nothing too?”
 
The young man closes his eyes and lets out a frustrated sigh. He knows he has no right to be frustrated.
 
“Don’t you see? Everything is different now. Everything is going to change. There won’t be room for me in your life anymore.” The boy stops, his body seemingly overcome with emotion.
 
“There will always be room for you, Zac. God, you’re my brother. No matter what happens, that’s one thing that can never change.” The young man stops too, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. The boy reels away from the touch.
 
“Yeah, don’t fucking remind me. I want you to leave. Because as much as you might think you need me, I don’t need this. I don’t want to see you right now, don’t want you to touch me, and I sure as hell don’t want to be having this conversation. There’s the door,” the boy points, though they both know its location.
 
“Please, give me a chance to explain. I know we can get through this.”
 
“Get out.”
 
“This isn’t the end; this can’t be the end of us…”
 
“Leave.”
 
“I can’t live without you.”
 
“GO!”
 
“I love you. God damnit, I love you more than anything. I won’t let you go.”
 
The words are loud and strong, pillars of resolve. The young man steps closer to the boy, lifting his brother’s face to stare him straight in the eyes.
 
“I love you, Zac.” He traces soft lips, wetting his own before leaning down and locking both pairs in a deep union. The young man tries to pour all of the things he cannot seem to find the words to express into the kiss. He desperately hopes it will be enough.
 
It is not. The fist is unexpected and connects with his jaw awkwardly. The boy’s nostrils are flared. His brown eyes look wild.
 
The young man is numb. He stares at the boy and recognizes something he has never seen before in the hard lines of his face and the scowl of his mouth.
 
Shoulders slouch, hands fall loose and useless. Both faces glisten.
 
The young man silently walks the four feet in the opposite direction of the place he should be, that he would have been, had none of the events of the past month happened.
 

The door closes between them.
 
Both drop to the floor, buried in regret and surrounded by the ghosts of the things that were and can no longer be.


I feel like I should've waited until tomorrow to post this, after sleep so as to have a clearer head for revision. And yet, here I go anyway...

Also, because apparently I wasn't done ranting...I seem to be preoccupied with this time in their lives and how it would have affected Zaylor. This isn't the first story I've written about it, but hopefully it's treated in a way that makes it feel like a different story. If not, I dunno...you can take it as a re-write or something. Or hate on it. Either is fine. :)

Comments/Criticism = awesome.
 
 
Current Mood: sleepysleepy
Current Music: owl hooting outside
 
 
 
ihategohip(Michelle g)ihategohip on December 2nd, 2011 11:01 am (UTC)
I loved every second of this. So raw and powerful. Something I would have loved to see at the end of this: is have Taylor turn and touch the door one more time. The door that holds everything he truly loves and when he pulls his hand away he gets a splinter. Signalling to Taylor that everything hw knew has been splintered and broken.
ahopper84ahopper84 on December 3rd, 2011 07:34 am (UTC)
this was absolutely beautiful.
drunkinlov3: ttatdrunkinlov3 on December 3rd, 2011 09:47 am (UTC)
The skin beneath them droops and the tiny red veins surround his iris like spider webs, harshly contrasting with the blue.

I'm not even sure what to say about this, other than the fact that I thought it was a powerful similie, and really stood out to me. It was a very vivid and original way to describe Taylor's eyes.

“Fuck this.” The voice sounds defeated.

It would be bad enough for Zac to sound angry or sad (and understandably), but I think him sounding defeated is even worse. He's so broken, and there's really nothing anyone is going to be able to say or do to mend his broken heart, and it's so sad. :(

It is a face too smooth with youth to be a father’s.

Something else that really stood out to me. Even though we all know that Taylor became a father at a very young age, this really made it sink in.

But then it is over before it could really begin

Just like Zac and Taylor's relationship. :/ Such a shame.

The young man tries to pour all of the things he cannot seem to find the words to express into the kiss. He desperately hopes it will be enough.

It is not. The fist is unexpected and connects with his jaw awkwardly.


The kiss had my heart racing with the hope that Zac would relent and give in, and that somehow, despite the circumstances, the two of them would be able to work something out. And the (sort of) punch came...I didn't see it coming. But it almost felt as if I had been punched. And maybe I shouldn't feel this bad for Taylor since it's his fault that this is happening, but I do. He made a mistake; people make mistakes all the time. Only this is a mistake that's going to cost him his and Zac's happiness for the rest of their lives. It sucks so much. :(

The door closes between them.

Horribly sad. :( And at the same time, it's probably for the best. Even though I was hoping that by some miracle, Zaylor would be able to work something out, it wouldn't have been fair to Zac or to Natalie and the baby. It's just such a shame it had to come to this. :/ As was mentioned, Taylor should have been on the other side of that door, with Zac. They should have been able to shut that door on the rest of the world, not on their relationship. Breaks my heart.

This was absolutely beautiful. And powerful, and well-written. Then again, what else could I have expected from you? <3 SO glad you're writing again!!!

Oh, and don't worry, this definitely feels like a different story than ones you've written in the past about Zaylor/Natalie. I think this is my favorite one, actually. <3

Also, if none of this makes sense, it might have something to do with the fact that I'm sort of slightly tipsy, lol.

Love you!!!!! <33333333333333333333
tearingitdown3tearingitdown3 on December 4th, 2011 01:09 am (UTC)
This was so sad. I've missed your stories.
troublethumbcut_ on February 11th, 2012 03:36 pm (UTC)
i added you awhile back and this is the first of your stories i've read - it's emotional and powerful. they're both clearly angry, conflicted and hurt, and you managed to convey that in a very real way.
RJpurechaos92 on March 8th, 2012 01:48 pm (UTC)
This so beautiful. It's very powerful. I love that there is almost this vague sense of who they are the outside. I'm floored. Incredable.

I need to read a lot more of your work (:
Razzthekidrazzthekid on June 10th, 2012 09:37 pm (UTC)
This is so heartbreaking! But your writing...WOW. Loved every minute of it. I added you awhile back but just now got around to reading and I'm glad I did! I just recently wrote a fic centered around this time period and it was so hard to write... Just, that period of their lives, with the struggle they were going through with the record label and then Taylor becoming a teenage father... And then of course you add Zaylor into the mix and ANGST GALORE, haha. Can't wait to read more of your stuff!